Saddam preaches defiance as Iraqis fight to leave city

As the US steps up preparations for war, Saddam is stepping up his public relations assault, reports Philip Sherwell in Baghdad

12:01AM GMT 16 Mar 2003

Every afternoon last week in the bus company offices on Salihiya Street in western Baghdad, Iraqis clamoured for scarce tickets on the overnight coach to Syria. Bulging suitcases blocked the pavement as relatives said tearful farewells before the packed coaches pulled out for the 10-hour desert trip.

For those who can afford the £5 fare to flee the country, Syria is the only option now that Jordan has closed its borders to Iraqi refugees. At Baghdad's overflowing passport office, bribes offered by queue-jumpers soared as people shoved through an increasingly desperate crush.

At Friday prayers last week, the mullahs delivered their usual anti-American denunciations but this time also promised that the day of jihad, or holy war, was near.

Government officials insist that Iraqis are ready for the fight ahead and deny that Saddam Hussein's devoted subjects would flee. Even those waiting for the Damascus bus usually claim that they are going on long-planned family visits.

The image that the regime seeks to convey - of defiance to America and devotion to Saddam - was polished yesterday at a noisy anti-war rally orchestrated by the ruling Ba'ath Party.

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Many marchers for peace were militiamen wielding Kalashnikov assault rifles, but the remainder of the tens of thousands of protesters ranged from giggling schoolgirls and college students to pro-Saddam Kurdish factions, women's groups and white-turbanned mullahs.

"Down, down USA", "Listen well, Bush, we all love Saddam!" they chanted. "We will give our blood for Saddam." Privately, however, the talk is of how best to survive the conflict, not how best to defeat the Americans.

Although most Iraqis cannot afford to send their relatives abroad for indefinite periods, many men have quietly moved their wives and children out of the capital to their home villages.

Baghdad has finally started to resemble a city bracing for war. The streets are noticeably quieter, and the studied fatalism of its residents has been replaced by despair and fear.

In the teahouses, there is little speculation about the twists and turns of United Nations diplomacy; much more about the devastating bombardment that the city is likely to endure.

For months, Baghdadis have insisted that they were unfazed by the threat of an American invasion, but this weekend they were hastily finishing whatever preparations they can make.

Wells have been dug in gardens; food stored; guns bought. Several people have died after kerosene that had been stored in bulk to use for cooking and heating exploded.

The regime has also been digging in for the expected invasion. Trenches have been carved alongside the main roads into the city and sandbag emplacements, previously installed in front of ministries and palaces, are now on almost every street corner.

Soldiers, until now visible only outside government buildings, are suddenly everywhere, strolling in their uniforms through the city and sipping sweet tea in its cafes.

In residential districts, young boys enlisted by local officials hand out leaflets urging Baghdadis to fight the Americans in the streets. Each neighbourhood has a committee of Ba'ath Party cadres and state security officials who have overseen preparations for the war, handing out Kalashnikov assault rifles to trusted residents.

Outside the glittering al-Kardom mosque, young men gave "V for victory" signs as they lined up to donate blood, while workers erected a towering new poster of a white-robed Saddam on his pilgrimage to Mecca.

Along Rashid Street, a once-elegant stretch of shops and souks, an old man pointed to the colonnades and wooden verandahs of some of Baghdad's oldest buildings. "These were built when your grandfathers were here," he said. "Now you are going to come back and bomb them."

Evening programming on state television is given over to lengthy broadcasts of Saddam's daily meetings with senior military officers.

Television is a key weapon for the state propaganda machine. Well aware that mutinying army officers played a major role in the 1991 uprising, Saddam seems to be trying to persuade his domestic audience that he remains in absolute control of the military.

As the visibly nervous soldiers approach the lectern to brief their president on their military preparedness, he exudes an air of chilling calm and confidence.

Sharply dressed in a crisp grey suit, looking supremely relaxed and often with a cigar in his hand, he sits back and listens before offering his advice and encouragement in the homespun Arabic of the peasant from Tikrit.

At one session last week, he stood on a stage in front of a throng of officers from the Republican Guard and denounced America as a tool of Zionism. His awestruck audience gazed obediently up at him, just as a group of young children would listen to their school teacher.

Saddam has not given up on wooing his people, or persuading them that there will be life after military action. The lead item on the 9pm bulletin last Wednesday was the news that interest rates on government housing loans were to be cut from eight per cent to one per cent for military personnel, and to three per cent for civilians.

Foreigners are not inclined to wait around for life after military action. The usual complement of 900 international UN aid workers has been reduced to 200. Remaining staff will be evacuated when the diplomatic efforts are exhausted.

Some 70 UN weapons inspectors are still in Iraq: along with more than 100 back-up staff, they have been put on an hour's notice to be flown out on aircraft on permanent standby at Saddam International Airport.

Similar arrangements are in place to move out diplomats from the handful of embassies that maintain a skeleton presence.

Although the human shield programme is much depleted, about 200 Western peace activists, including a handful of Britons, are still milling around the city. Some shields have "deployed" at an oil refinery, power plant, food depot and a water purification site in Baghdad.

As George Bush, Tony Blair and Jose-Maria Aznar meet today to put what could be the final touches to the war plan, those very sites could soon be destroyed by one of the most intense aerial bombardments in history. It is unclear whether the shields will be willing to honour their pledge to stay.